by Adriana Law
Out of the corner of my eyes I watch Ricin “Stroll” through what is known as the “Circuit”. Arrogant piece-of-shit. My hands clench into fists with the desire to hurt him the way he has hurt us.
“Starr,” he calls, snapping his fingers like I’m a goddamn dog.
I walk, mumbling, “Yes master. I’m on my way.” He doesn’t hear me. I never let him hear me.
“You did well tonight,” he tells me. “Real well. I’m impressed. The Johns like you.”
“What can I say…Mattie trained me well.”
Hands buried in the pockets of my wooly jacket I balance the spiky heel of my boot on the edge of the concrete. His concrete. The street is mine. Technically, I’m not on his sidewalk. I’m on the lip of it.
Ricin smokes a cigarette while watching the foot.
He’ll give me time, hoping I make the stupid mistake of challenging him.
“I’ve had a few complaints that you’re too mouthy though,” he says exhaling smoke through his nose. I hate whenever he does that. Makes him look like a raging bull. He closely eyes the slight movement of my boot balanced on the sharp heel. Does he realize I’m imagining stabbing the heel through his nuts? Ball-shish-kabobs anyone? I consider it, out here in front of the entire world. I imagine Ricin curled on HIS concrete cradling his leaking, throbbing nutsack with both hands while real tears form in his eyes from the sheer pain of it.
But I won’t do it.
I’m too afraid he might be as sadistic and sick as I think he is and make good on his threats.
I step back.
He flicks the cigarette to the concrete and squashes it out with his boot, smiles at me as if he knows I folded. He lifts a hand, gesturing for the “new girl” to come over.
Her face is round and full. The face of a cherub. My eyes immediately go to her throat, down a smidge further to the color of amber. My necklace. Ricin gave her the fucking necklace he bought from me!
“Wow,” the girls says staring at me with clueless doe-eyes. Even her voice sounds too young. “You are really pretty. I don’t think I’ve ever been this up close to someone so pretty.”
My necklace. “You must not get out much,” I hiss.
“Love your boots. Do you mind if I ask where you got ‘em? I want a pair.”
I give her an honest answer. “My pimp.”
She snorts. “Yea, whatever, think he’ll buy me a pair just like ‘em?”
“He might…if you ask him politely.”
“Hey, if you don’t want me to have a pair, I totally get it.”
Ricin gives me a scathing look. He provides a formal introduction. “This is sweet Summer,” he tells me while petting her hair. “Summer, this is my good friend Starr. She might seem kind of abrasive at first…but she’s got a good heart.” He locks eyes with mine, a warning in his. “Starr, we’re going to help Summer out for a while. Give her a place to stay until she works a few things out with her parents. She’s having a rough time. Needs a few friends to back her up.”
Summer radiates the unsuspecting runaway vibe. She covers her mouth up and giggles out a “This is so freaking exciting! I’m hanging out with the older crowd!”
I don’t spend much time stewing in the feelings of betrayal over the necklace. Seeing my pain would only cause Ricin to gloat. I pretend either I don’t notice he gave her my necklace or I don’t care.
Besides, Summer is getting under my skin.
She is so damn naïve and trusting. To Summer, Ricin is a tattooed bad with a huge, gold-plated heart. She has no idea what danger she if flitting near. Danger. Danger. Danger! Run Summer. Run!
A truck blows past gearing down at the stop light. The passenger window rolls down, and a scrawny pimpled face teenage guy shouts, “Hey. Want to taste ma pickle?”
The guy wouldn’t say that shit if he wasn’t locked inside a car with his buddy and able to get away from a pissed off Ricin by the press of the gas.
I take my frustration out on the teenager by flashing my middle finger and telling him to, “Go fuck yourself with a cactus.”
“Calm down, Love,” Ricin scolds. “It’s just a kid having a little fun.” He drops an arm around the girl's shoulder, crushing her to his side. Ugh. She gazes up at him with sappy admiration. Yes, little lamb, let me lead you to the slaughter. “Come here,” Ricin says to me than does the same—arm around the shoulder. His arms slip to around our waist as he walks us, guiding us. His hands at the small of our backs.
This feels wrong. Icky. Raises the hairs on the back of your neck, Icky.
“I think I’m just going back to the house and clean up,” I tell Ricin, twisting away from where his arm is around me.
He pulls me right back snug. “You can’t leave yet. Summer wants you to hang out with us for a little while.” He smiles down a Summer curled possessively into his other side. “Be nice, Starr. Can’t you see you’re Summer’s idol?”
Pink explodes in Summer’s cheeks.
Great! Now I feel even more convicted.
Ricin directs us toward a crapping motel that is a few blocks away. It’s the old kind of motel. Very Bate-ish. Nothing nice or clean about it. There is no pool. It’s a u-shape. All the doors are bright blue, the brick white. There is a sign blinking pink, “Vacancy”. Of course. Nobody wants to sleep here. They’re afraid they might get stabbed.
As we walk by the front desk guy, Ricin nods. The man standing on the other side of bent blinds lifts a hand in greeting gesturing that Ricin already has clearance. You can see an old school television, fuzzy behind the counter.
We stop short of thirteen.
“What are we doing here?” Summer ask. She refuses to make eye contact with either of us, her gaze cast down at the concrete. Her shoulders slouch making her appear smaller and much younger. I think she finally gets that this could be headed nowhere good.
Ricin flashes her a hypnotizing smile. His blue eyes heavy on her as he feeds her a lie. “We’re just going to party a little bit.” He brushes strands of hair out of her blinking eyes. “You want to party with us, don’t you?”
Run Summer. Run!
“You know what…I forgot,” she speaks quickly, “I promised some friends I would be back by ten…I should probably—”
“Summer!” Ricin snaps.
“Yea?”
“I thought we are your friends?”
“I—you are.”
He’s shaking his head. “You can’t do that?”
“Do what? I’m not—”
“You said you were going to party with us. You can’t back out on your word. What would that make you?”
Summer’s nostrils flare. She glances out into the black parking lot while hugging herself. Still unsure she looks over at me. I assume inside her head she rationalizes that if I’m ok with it, then there must be nothing to fear.
Run Summer. Run!
“Ok,” she says. “But I can only stay for a little while.”
I drop my head: I should speak up and tell her not to go inside. My sleep will be restless tonight, but then, like Summer I will rationalize it so I am able to live with it.
“Good.” Ricin retrieves a single key from his pocket, dangles it in front of her face before he unlocks the door and shoves it open. The smell of damp mold escapes. Cockroach feces.
Nothing much to describe in the room. A full side bed. A chair. A small table with a worn out phone book and the Holy Bible on it. The room is outdated. Ugly. Stinky. Cheap. Ricin locks the door and removes his jacket. Comes toward Summer; crowding her, getting all up in her personal space.
“Ricin!” My tone has bite. A warning that I’m not down with any of this. It feels sleazy and just morally wrong. I know. Who am I to say what is moral? He holds a stern hand up to silence me. The fourteen-year-old fidgets under his pursuit. She takes a step back. Ricin matches it. They do this awkward dance until he backs her against the wall and runs a hand down the baggy t-shirt she is wearing.
Jeans and a T-shirt. This girl has no clue.
Ricin leisurely sheds his shirt down to beautiful bare flesh revealing all his breathtaking ink: A Japanese dragon on one shoulder. A scorpion across a shoulder blade. Tribal artwork creeps down a bicep and forearm.
There is a scar on his side about the size of the tip of a knife. Hell. Even I am captivated, and I know he’s a snake.
He is smooth in his movement, blocking Summer in before she can escape. “I—I really want to leave now,” she stutters out and darts for the door.
Ricin blocks her path with his muscled body.
Just as Summer opens the door, he shuts it.
“Not yet,” he says. “I thought you wanted to be my friend?”
“I do, but…” Tears slip down over her cheeks. “…you’re scaring me.”
“Shh,” passes over his lips.
He presses a finger over Summer’s purple lipstick while herding her toward the chair, lowering her into that chair with the use of his hands on her shoulders. He squats by her chair, digging out a plastic baggie and offering Summer a blue pill. She sniffles. Afraid. “This will help you relax,” he tells her. “Then we can party.”
Summer eyes slide to mine.
Run summer. Run!
“What is it?” she asks Ricin. “Will it make me sick?”
“Starr loves them,” he tells her. To prove it, Ricin extends an arm toward me, a bit of blue heaven captured in his palm.
He is well aware of the fact that I cannot resist.
Summer copies my actions, swallowing the pill.
“Good girl.” Ricin leans in, brushing Summer’s lips with his. She whimpers when he forces her mouth to open to accept his tongue. His hands work at unbuttoning her jeans, a hand sliding inside her panties.
Dilemma time.
How far am I willing to let it go?
It’s one thing to hurt myself, but to knowingly hurt someone else…
I glance around the room, considering bashing the back of his skull in. I could do it. I hate him enough. But there is not one useful “bashing” object in the room. They kiss for a long time, slow and gentle until the pill begins to work, and Summer’s body relaxes into him. “See… I’m a nice guy.”
“Come here, Starr.” I hesitate. “Bitch, I said get over here,” he tells me.
I do as I am told.
He stands face to face with me, gently guiding my coat off with his steady hands, dropping the coat to the floor. His hand covers the side of my face tipping my head, the other hand stroking the length of my hair.
To include me in the seduction, he runs his tongue along the seam of my mouth, saying, “We’re just going to have a little fun. The three of us. Starr will go first. Show you there is nothing to be afraid of.”
Kissing Ricin is very intoxicating. He knows how to do things with his mouth that should be illegal. He leaves me in a cloudy haze and lowers onto the side of the bed, his blue eyes never leaving mine. My tense muscles diminish from the pill. I know my role:
Mattie had her turn at teaching.
Now it is mine turn to be the teacher.
Run Starr. Run!
His posture and demeanor are that of a guy…waiting for me to do something.
When I don’t, Ricin pops the button of his jeans and lowers the zipper. His semi-erect cock springs free. Ricin grips his cock with a hand and starts to deliberately stroke until he is fully hard. His cock is pierced—a bar vertically; a silver ball resting on the underside, another ball under the head. He tells me, “I want you to show Summer here…your technique.”
I might vomit. “I can’t—”
He cuts me off. “Starr likes to play hard to get. It’s a game to her. One I don’t recommend. Guys like going right to the action, not being toyed with.” His eyes bore into mine, his tone harsh, “Suck. My. Cock.”
The words launch me back to that night. In the beginning. To the way I felt when those men raped me. “I refuse to do it,” I tell him.
I notice the shift of Summer in her chair. The straightening of her defeated posture. She wants me to do something, but she has no idea what we’re up against.
“No,” I assert. “I’m not going to do it.” Ricin glares at me, knowing I’m not referring to oral sex. I clarify in case there is any confusion, “I refuse to train her. You will have to get someone else.”
“You will do it.”
I shake my head. “No. You can’t make me.”
“After everything…you’re still unsure of the roles here? I say. You do.” In one fluid motion, Ricin captures me. I fight. I fight as I’ve never fought before. He hits me, hits hard, over and over, Summer screaming in the background. I fall over a chair. Get up. Roll off the bed and smack the floor. I’m pretty sure he’s fractured a rib or two. He flings me onto the bed. His jeans are already unzipped, so all it takes is the roll of a condom, the hike of my skirt and the crotch of my panties pulled aside before he is thrusting into me. One, two, three…gotcha. He would never risk being inside me without a condom for fear he might catch something from my “passed-around” ass. You don’t shit where you eat. Eat where you sleep. Piss where you swim. And you don’t fuck what you sell. But this is different, part of the job of coaxing.
As Ricin fucks me slow my eyes go to Summer, her feet pulled up into the chair, trembling, her face stone cold and petrified.
She will not run for fear he will come after her.
Fourteen.
What I wouldn’t give to be fourteen again.
I taste blood on my lips. Cuts from the punch I took.
My eyes remain glued to Summer curled up in her chair. I think of sunbathing by the pool with my friends. Laughing. Hitting on the new cute lifeguard. My love for astrology and mythical beings. Healing stones and positive energy. Dreams and innocence. Going somewhere. Being someone of value to someone. There is no going back now.
I am doomed.
Used up.
Tired.
Ricin stills on top of me. He doesn’t make a sound. I know he didn’t enjoy it. I don’t know why he does it. Without a word he stands up. His expression is cold and distant like usual. I feel sick. Like I could throw up. “I'm still not going to show her anything." I numbly say.
He zips his jeans, telling me, “You just did, you dumb bitch.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
What were you were before him?
I’m lying on the bed in the room Mattie and I share. She sits next to me, swabbing my cuts with a piece of cotton soaked in an antiseptic. I cringe away from the sting it causes. “You still think he is a decent guy?” I ask her.
She makes a sound in the back of her throat. I glance at her face. She can’t admit. I see it. Most of Ricin’s girls won’t admit it. No. They all need to believe he has a soul, and they can save it, or at least set it free.
I’m not interested in trying to do either.
I rest my head on the pillow and shut my eyes while Mattie continues to play the nurse. It feels good being taken care of for a change. “One day we’ll be at the top,” she mutters. “His best, and then no one can touch us.”
“He can,” I return.
Mattie blows the sting away when I cringe, but it’s not the antiseptic that has me cringing. “Is that all you strive to be…his TOP girl?”
She shrugs. “It’s safer.”
“Don’t you ever want more?”
“I live in the present. That’s how I survive.”
“Don’t you want to do more than survive?”
“That’s your problem, Starr. You expect too much,” Mattie tells me.
I laugh. “That’s what my mother used to say.”
“Well, maybe she was right. If you expect too much, eventually you’ll find you are disappointed and angry at your life.”
“I’m already angry at my life.” Now I’m the one making a sound in the back of my throat. “I just want to be happy,” I mumble into the pillow.
“Then accept who you are. A beautiful, intelligent sexual creature. Learn to use that to your advantage
instead of fighting it so hard. I know you have it in you.” She combs her fingers through my hair like a mother would. “You have beautiful thick hair,” she says. “Men love long hair. Men love you. Now you just have to find a way to love yourself.” Mattie kisses my forehead and turns out the light. “Night, Starr,” she says. “Things will get better. You’ll see.”
I have something in me alright. I can’t explain it, but I don’t think I’m supposed to be here. Maybe Mattie is right. Girl’s line up for Ricin’s attention. Maybe I should be looking for the silver lining, instead of a way out.
I decide then and there that it is human nature to look for the good in all things. No matter how ugly they are. We have to believe, deep down, way deep, there has to be good. Otherwise we couldn’t bear it. If Mattie admits that Ricin is a Monster, then what does that say about us?
***
“Did I say you could cut your hair?” His cold blue eyes slide over my new hair. Mattie had me thinking. Men do love long hair. The random electric blue streaks may have been a little much though. Not many. Just a few as highlights. Or lowlights. I’m not a hairdresser. Obviously.
Ricin cocks his head to the side making a face like someone shoved his nose in shit, then shakes his head. “Fuck. Your value just went down.” He paces. Inhales a deep breath. Stops. Cocks his head again.
I run my hands down the sides of my hair, crown to the tips that frame my chin now. Chopping like rough waters. That’s how I feel. Like a storm is wreaking havoc in my life. Why not give the way I feel on the inside outward-expression. “It’s not that bad,” I tell him. “It will grow back.”
“Goddammit,” he stalks up to me, grabs my upper arms and yanks me against his chest. I gasp. His breath smells like straight-up alcohol, and I find myself wondering if he is drunk. Of course with Ricin you can never tell; he stays in-control even while intoxicated. I’m starting to think the ugly goes to the core with him, and there is nothing else.
Ricin’s hold tightens as he growls out, “You are going to make up the difference. If it means more hours flat on your back. I’ll take the loss out of your ass.”
